Sultry in Stilettos (9 page)

“Let’s not forget that time you caught
him, um, attending to himself.”

“I will
never
forget that. It’s the sole
reason I don’t sleep at night.”

Ricca didn’t understand. “Why don’t
you just have dinner with the guy?”

“Because I’m shit at relationships,
and they never work out for me. And since he’s apparently in the
circle, thanks to Jaya’s man, it’s too messy. Besides. I want to
sleep with him. I don’t want to find out his life goals and
shit.”

“You’re incorrigible, Micha. What
about love and romance?” Ricca asked. Though Micha had a point. In
their small circle of friends it would get messy. One more reason
Beckett was off limits.

“I don’t believe in love and romance
for me. For you and Jaya, that works.” Abruptly, she changed the
subject, like she always did when she was scared of appearing too
vulnerable. “Okay, so are we good to commence operation sex-pot,
Ree? And think, the added bonus is that Beckett will literally want
to cut out his own tongue when he sees you. A little pay back for
the years you spent thinking about him. You in?”

Ricca swallowed around a lump in her
throat. She hated that her old feelings for Beckett had been so
apparent to everyone but him. He might be off limits, but having
him notice her would be nice for a change. “I’m in.”

Jaya smirked then crawled over to the
canvas bag she’d left by Micha’s couch. She pulled out a shoe box
and said, “I’m officially passing off the stilettos to you. I no
longer need them. Wear them with pride and take no prisoners—unless
they look like my fiancé or Caleb.”

Ricca eyed the gold-embossed Christian
Louboutins that, in a fit of insanity, Jaya had bought for three
thousand dollars. To bail out their friend, Micha and Ricca agreed
to time-share the sinfully delicious shoes. It was Ricca’s turn to
play Cinderella. She only hoped the shoes worked as well on jobs as
they did on men. “You got it.”

Ricca ran through a Patti
Labelle song in her head as she stood on Beckett’s doorstep with a
pile of folders, shifting from foot to foot in her Gucci
flats.
Ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo, I got a new
attitude.
Micha had insisted she wear
heels, but Jaya had said that the flats were more casual. They’d
break out the Louboutins for work, but for now, Ricca needed to
appear like she wasn’t trying too hard.

Though to Ricca, trying
too hard was a relative term, because the skinny jeans she’d poured
herself into, via way of crowbar and pig grease, might start
cutting off her circulation at any time. Okay maybe not cutting off
her circulation. They just fit like a glove—a very tight glove.
Micha had found her a brand that was made for women with actual
asses.

Ricca just wasn’t used to
being so exposed. Her vintage, Lakers T-shirt did nothing to hide
her ample chest and actually showed a hint of belly—which she
sucked in. A little voice whispered in the back of her mind.
Straighten your shoulders, kid, this won’t work
if you’re not confident. What’s the worst that could
happen?

Before she rang the bell,
she cleared her throat and patted down her hair. There was so much
of it that she never wore it down. Since she was so short, it
completely overwhelmed her stature. At least that was her thought,
but Jaya and Micha had a different idea. Micha with the gorgeous
ringlets actually told her she was jealous of Ricca’s hair and
wished hers was as thick.

For a hint of a moment,
Ricca wanted to turn back. She didn't want to be here. Anywhere but
here. Hell, who was she kidding, she wanted to be here, but she
knew it wasn't good for her. Strong confident women didn't chase
men who didn't want them. Who looked at her like a little
sister.

Then she remembered
Beckett’s smug face as he’d said let the best man win. He really
thought he was a shoe-in for the job, just because he could smile
and charm his way out of anything. Well, this was her job, and she
wasn’t backing down from it. Squaring her shoulders, she rang the
doorbell. “I have a job to win."

“Come on in, Ricca."
Beckett's deep voice came from behind the door. Probably from the
kitchen. "See if you can find somewhere to sit. Want a
drink?"

She let herself in, barely
managing to maneuver around the box of files. “Wine is good, if you
still have that Moscato.” Her taste in wine left something to be
desired, as she only actually liked the sweet stuff. “I brought the
files of my past romance fantasies for the last year. I thought we
could go through them, see if there’s anything that’s reusable.” As
was her habit, she sauntered into his living room, which was a
combo of contemporary-meets-bachelor pad, and dropped the box on
the coffee table.”

“Good idea,” he called
from the kitchen.

“I figure these guys have
enough money to do pretty much anything they like, so we have to
think out of the box here. You’ve only ever handled adventure
clients. And my experience with adventure clients is minimal.
Usually someone wants to base-jump off of some building. We need to
figure out how to meld our experience into one master
fantasy.”

“I guess I should have
thought about that—going through our previous playbook. You always
were a planner. Sma—” Beckett sauntered into the living room
holding a beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. He froze in
the arched doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Ricca
held back a bark of laughter, only by the force of sheer will.
Beckett actually looked like he was having a seizure, blinking,
twitching, and shaking his head a couple of times.

She tipped her lips up
into a smile. “This isn’t one of those things you can wing
unfortunately.”

“
W-w-what are you
wearing?” His eyes were wide, and his expression mirrored a deer
caught in headlights.

Ricca stared down at her
at herself, then back up at him. “Clothes.”

“Someone’s a comedian. I
mean why are your clothes so….” His voice trailed off.

Ricca stared at him,
daring him to mutter one word about her appearance. She could play
it tough, but she didn't need him ridiculing her appearance. “So
what?”

“D-d-different? I don’t
think I’ve seen you in anything other than sweats when we’re
watching a game.”

“I went shopping with the
girls. Mixing it up a little.” Not in the mood to slash open this
particular wound, she added, “You ready to get to work?

Her whole life, she’d
listened to her mother’s version of what a lady should be and look
like and act like. The tiny criticisms about her hair and her body.
None of that mattered now. She was in control. That was where her
power was.

Ricca straightened and
smirked at Beckett. Serena had been right—he didn’t stand a chance.
She wouldn’t be running after him begging for scraps of attention,
hoping someone would take notice of her and her work. She would
demand it. This job was hers.

****

Beckett stared at Ricca as she laid
out the file folders. He knew his brain had sent the command to his
body to move, but his feet didn’t. He could only stare as the scent
of her perfume tickled his nose. His body went rock hard. Damn it.
He recognized the scent as something she always wore, but now it
seemed stronger—like it was meant to entice and torture
him.

Gritting his teeth, he
lurched into action like Frankenstein. All he had to do was focus
on the work at hand. Make a little small-talk about the game and
try not to think about how the thin fabric of her top molded to her
breasts. He had to somehow manage to keep his eyes on her
face.
How hard can that be?
Not like that was a hardship to look at her face.
Her skin glowed, and she wore the barest hint of makeup, but she
wore some. She usually never wore make up. Blood pooled in his
groin, and he bit on his lip to keep from moaning.

“Beckett, you coming? This could take
all night at this rate. What’s wrong with you?”

The last thing he needed to think
about was the two of them spending all night doing anything. Let
alone what he really wanted to do with her. “Right. Nothing. I’m
going to get a beer.” Never mind that he already had one in his
hands.

Striding to the fridge, he yanked the
door open, hoping the cold air would cool him off. “C’mon man. Get
a grip. This is Ricca. She’s not that kind of girl,” he mumbled to
himself.

He had to get over the
preoccupation his brain had with her since that kiss. She
outclassed him by miles and didn’t deserve the kind of fantasies he
was having about her. He’d keep them to himself and figure it out.
After all, Ricca was his friend. A friend he wanted to keep. Job or
not, and despite what she thought about his scruples. He wanted to
win this job fair and square with something he didn’t have much
experience with.
Integrity
.

It took him another five minutes
before he joined Ricca in the living room. She’d spread out piles
of paper and taped up her world map she always used for planning
meetings. She’d also turned the game on mute. When he walked in,
she was hunched over some files and playing with her hair. He
suddenly had a flashback to college. When they’d been much closer
friends. Back when she thought he could do no wrong. In those days,
he’d always thought they’d eventually date or something.

But things had changed three years
ago. After Braedon. Almost like she’d lumped him in with his
brother. They’d been friends, just not as close as they’d once
been. With her love of sports, they’d immediately bonded by
swapping stats and scores. Hell, they’d spent every waking minute
together, and several sleeping ones too, as they’d passed out in
his bed or hers, studying. Nothing had ever happened with
them—until that stupid kiss.

He picked up one of the files and sank
into his leather chair at the opposite end of the room. “So how do
you think we’re going to meld our two skill sets?”

She raised an eyebrow as he sat but
didn’t comment on his choice of location. “I’m not sure yet. I
thought of doing something with Fire and Ice, but that’s just so
played. Besides, I don’t think either one of them enjoys the cold.
They don’t strike me as the climbing Everest together kind of
couple.”

Beckett considered for a moment, then
smirked at the idea of Lila roughing it at Basecamp One. She’d
never make it. “You’re right about that.”

“I’d thought about a desert theme, but
we have the same problem, desert usually equals harsh and
inhospitable. While inhospitable is good for an adventure trek from
Capetown to Marrakesh, it’s not ideal for romance.”

He grinned. “What, you don’t find
sweltering heat, occasional civil war-torn areas, and uncertain
terrain particularly romantic?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve done a
few adventure treks. Not my cup of tea. Though I’d love to do
another Back to Roots Fantasy. I loved the one we did in Gabon,
Ghana, and Nigeria.”

They batted around several
more unsuccessful ideas over a couple of beers and took turns
shouting at the television when their respective teams got fouls.
Beckett shook his head. “Our only option is to loosely tie together
the fantasies with some down time in between. There’s no way to
find a common theme. He’s your typical want-to-be adventurer, who
now has money and wants to see how the other half lives. She’d be
happy shopping on the
Champs
Eylysee
.”

Ricca’s eyes went wide. “That’s it!
Well, not exactly it. Lila’s a little deeper than that. But you
just gave me an idea.” Ricca ran up to the map with Post-its and
scribbled frantically.

“Want to fill me in?”

She whipped around, causing
her shirt to lift and show more belly, and he winced. He’d been
sitting so still, trying to get his body to behave, that he’d
nearly frozen that way. He did not need to think about her belly
and the cinnamon expanse of skin.
Last.
Thing. He. Needed.

“Our theme will be driving through the
sands of time. To signify their union and their anniversary. As
well as the landscape for their adventure.”

He frowned. “I thought you agreed the
desert was inhospitable.”

She smirked, and it was all
he could do not to salivate as he stared at her lips. “It is.
Unless you can find an oasis. I’m thinking we start with some kind
of road trek. You know, like the guys on
Top Gear
always do. Maybe some
insane race. Roberto’s a car nut. For the romance angles, there are
some amazing desert spas all over the world. I’m thinking we can do
a globetrotting round of adventures, each with a little down time
over the course of several weeks. All leading up to their actual
anniversary, where we do a modified harem adventure. She’s big into
historical romance. The stuff of sheiks and bodice
rippers.”

He blinked at her. Shit, she was good.
There was a reason clients kept coming back to work with her. He
cleared his throat as he tried to contribute something useful.
Finally, his brain clicked into gear. “I like it. We could do a
Paris to Dakar Rally race to start.”

Ricca’s eyes went wide. “Yes! That’s
perfect, and there’s this amazing spa in Namibia. It’s where
Angelina Jolie goes to relax. So they can spend a few days there
for down time.”